


I love you, so don't go

by hydrangeamaiden



Series: Lacenet Collection [2]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Emotional Sex, F/F, Fingering, Fluff and Smut, Romance, Seven Minutes In Heaven Game, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 12:08:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21015542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydrangeamaiden/pseuds/hydrangeamaiden
Summary: “You left us in there, for Seven Minutes in Heaven. Which, by the way, was 70 minutes ago,” Hornet points out.





	I love you, so don't go

<strike></strike>Both Hornet and Lace could have opened the door if they wanted to. The lock on the door and the chair beneath the knob are little more than tin foil and matchsticks compared to the two of them. When Hornet’s siblings pushed her into the closet, giggling, they were absolutely anticipating her to burst out on her own, furious. The locks are more of a symbolic gesture. Look, we’ve got you now. Ha, ha.

“What’s wrong?” Comes Lace’s soft voice against her neck. Hornet is brought out of her thoughts by a cold mouth against her bare chest. Either one of them could have left the closet by now. Lace’s gloved hands run up and down her waist before finally settling on her hips. Someone outside laughs a little too loudly, and they both startle.

“Nothing! Nothing.” Hornet takes a deep breath, and looks into Lace’s pearly white eyes, those spiderweb lashes that bat coquettishly at her. They are twin moons against her night sky carapace when she’s excited, slivered crescents when she’s deep in thought or smug about something. Those eyelashes of hers flutter against her shell in butterfly kisses when Lace presses their foreheads together. Their anxiety at being caught in the act had, after the first ten minutes of being locked in, pardoned itself for the carnal want that blossoms between them when they’re alone.

Hornet is the one on her back, as usual, with a knee pressed against Lace’s crotch. It feels as though all of the heat in Lace’s body has concentrated itself there. She pushes her knee up, taking pride in the moan that wrests from her. In a moment of boldness, she rolls Lace onto her back to straddle her waist. Their ensuing laughter is firecracker sharp, and they put their hands over each other’s mouths in case someone hears.

“What if someone came in right now?” Lace laughs from behind Hornet’s fingers. Hornet knows that she just says these things to see her reaction, and she hates that it works every time. Her shell goes florid, and of course Lace has to follow up with, “I’m joking! You are _far_ too cute.”

She tugs at Hornet’s wrist until they’re laying flush against each other. “What are you going to do?” Lace whispers against her, “Are you going to take me? Going to let everyone outside know who I belong to? I’d like to see you try, little spider.”

Her teasing knows no end. Hornet, naturally shy, quickly falls apart from these suggestive comments. It’s Lace who does all of the dirty talking, and most of the sweet talking. Hornet had wanted to take the lead this time, but ends up tongue-tied, unable to meet Lace’s absolute shamelessness. But...she doesn’t have to do things the way Lace does. Hornet pulls away to rummage through her cloak, and comes back with a throwing knife.

“I didn’t know you were into knife play—Oh.” Lace reacts with mild surprise as Hornet uses the knife to pin her sleeves together above her head. She tilts her head back to try and see Hornet’s handiwork, and is surprised with a nip to the neck. The noise she makes entices Hornet to keep teasing her. Her pinned hands flex and curl, testing the strength of her bonds; she shifts underneath Hornet, playfully trying to get away, but not really. Her gasps and giggles become higher pitched and breathier as Hornet kisses down her chest, making her way to her hips and below.

The drawback of being a spider is that Hornet has to be very, _very_ careful with her mouth. There runs the risk of injuring Lace or worse, poisoning her, with her chelicerae. The first night they spent together, Hornet had bitten Lace’s hand in a fit of temper, and had to drink out the poison before it could spread up her arm. Her hands tremble as she spreads Lace apart, and tastes her for the first time. She drags her tongue up through Lace’s folds and against her clit. Then again. Lace moans shamelessly and brings her thighs against Hornet’s shell, holding her in place. Her slit drools with warm, syrupy slick that Hornet eagerly drinks up.

“Delicious. I should do this to you every night,” Hornet murmurs when she comes up for air. Lace whines and rolls her hips up. “...If you’re good, that is.”

“Wh-what? What do you...” Lace cries, breath hitching as Hornet drags her tongue along her clit. “What do you mean by that?”

Hornet pushes herself up until the two are face to face. Lace is limp and helpless beneath her, limbs akimbo and head lolling against one arm. Only a few minutes of attention, and she’s already this spent. When her eyes meet Hornet’s, she comes back to life and puts a hand to her lover’s shell. “Please, don’t stop,” she begs. “It feels so good. Don’t stop.”

Hornet lowers her face to the crook of Lace’s neck and breathes in her scent—subtle and flowery, mingled with sweat. Her dress shirt is unbuttoned to expose her heaving chest, which Hornet rests her palm upon. Beneath the hard shell she feels a strong and certain heartbeat, anticipating the next touch. She drags her hand down below Lace’s legs, and comes back up with wet fingers. Lace’s moans make Hornet think that the bugs outside really _are_ going to know who Lace belongs to. The thought of being caught makes her tighten up between the legs, but common sense knows how mortifying that would be if it actually did happen.

“Hush. They’ll hear us.” Hornet slides two of her fingers into Lace’s mouth, forcing her to lick them clean. They both look to the door, in front of which a shadow passes. When the footsteps recede, they sigh in unison. Hornet takes Lace’s chin in her hand, and leans in close. “You’re the one who always gets to have fun teasing me. It’s my turn.”

Lace blinks. Her eyes have gone into their full moon roundness again, with clouds of plum blush on her shell. Hornet kisses her long and tender, until they’re both gasping for breath. She slides back down and dips her tongue back in. The closet becomes their own world, forgotten by the party outside. It has been maybe half an hour since they were locked in, which has been ample time for their bodies to heat the small space. In this warmth, they feel like they’re going to melt into each other. Hornet has locked her arms around Lace’s thighs, lifting her to be almost upside-down on her lap.

This awkward, tangled position leaves Lace at Hornet’s mercy, and they both love every second of it. Hornet, especially; she has always felt too passive in bed, never able to reciprocate as much as she’d like, always wondering if Lace would mind her taking control. More than accidental poison, Hornet fears boredom and stagnation. Anxieties about their relationship are a common theme of her anxiety dreams, and though every morning Lace is still in bed with her, how much longer will that last? When will Lace grow bored, when will she regret moving in with her, when, when when. Life has taught Hornet one thing, and that’s ‘it’s always a matter of when’.

Hornet becomes bolder in her osculations, and her steady rhythm quickly sends Lace over the edge. Warm slick fills her mouth, sticking to her pedipalps and dribbling down her chin. She opens her eyes and looks at the bug who lies beneath her, unaware of this desperation. Her arms go slack, and Lace slides down onto their pile of clothes. She’s twitching with pleasure and looking up at Hornet with such affection, that the spider leans down to kiss her right then and there. The two quickly fall into tight embrace, tired and warm under a curtain of coats and cloaks. Hornet hasn’t even pleasured herself, yet she feels exhaustion creep over her. Lace’s familiar, comforting arms lull her into a calm that not even her worries can reach. Not in any significant way, that is. They still nag at the back of her mind, distracting her from how she’s being rolled onto her back.

Hornet’s eyes search until Lace leans into view, whispering to her conspiratorially. “Let’s continue this upstairs. Someone is bound to come for their coat eventually.”

“But I just—” Lace interrupts her with a swift peck to her mouth.

“I’m not going to let you have all the fun. Now hurry.”

Hornet would not have minded staying in the closet, but Lace is right: they can’t hide forever. She pulls her poncho over her head, picks up a trinket that fell out of one of the pockets, and goes to help Lace dress. The white blouses, bell shorts, and dresses she insists on ornamenting herself in are more complicated to put on and take off than Hornet’s simple outfits. While Lace buttons up the front of her shirt, Hornet smooths out the collar and straightens the points of her hat.

“Do you have your needle?”

“It’s upstairs.”

“That’s alright.” Lace cracks her fingers. “Now, on the count of three.”

The closet door bursts open. Their little pocket dimension dissolves, and they return to the real world. The door squeaks on its hinges, threatening to fall but ultimately holding. The rest of the party-goers, gathered in a semi-circle, go silent at once. Lace narrows her eyes at them in silent admonishment. Without her pin, she still carries herself as a conductor would. The bugs, perched on stools and floor cushions, are her terrified musicians who have lost their instruments. Among them, Hornet sees Hollow, watching them guiltily over a hand of cards. They make eye contact, and she offers them a single nod: no harm done. Ghost and the Lost Kin are absent, likely raiding the kitchens.

God Tamer, damn her, lifts her chin knowingly and speaks up. “What were you two doing in there?”

“You left us in there, for Seven Minutes in Heaven. Which, by the way, was _70_ minutes ago,” Hornet points out. Naming the game was a mistake: several bugs start tittering, causing Hornet to go red. The many pairs of eyes on her, sans Hollow, stuns her like an electric shock. She puts a hand over her mouth, realizing the implications—subtle but there, if you squint—and is saved by Lace putting an arm around her waist.

“We were so bored in there. I could’ve sworn you just wanted us out of the way,” Lace interjects. With Hornet pressed against her side, she leads her around and away from the offending crowd. “But Tamer, if you’re so interested, come with us next time!” Then, to Hornet, “Now, run!”

Lace half-drags Hornet by the hand out of the room, down the hallway, and up the stairs. Papered walls with posters of forgotten concerts and gilded doorways fly past. The women, both laughing, dance up a spiral staircase and into a studio flat overlooking the city. Its previous occupant is long gone, but their furnishings remain. Behind a matted velvet curtain is a field of wet blue rooftops, spires, and bridges. Hornet just about presses her forehead to the glass, looking out at the spots of light that dot the cityscape like stars. Lumafly lanterns, working for centuries after the rest of the Hallownest stopped.

Behind her, Lace has turned on a lantern. The dim outside turns to black, offering Hornet a reflection of herself and Lace, who is now beating the dust out of the queen-sized bed’s pillows. The coverlet she folds back to expose the sheets, which look like they haven’t seen an iron in fifty years. Alone, Hornet would’ve cupped a hand to the glass to look outside. Instead, she watches this phantom Lace wake up the room. Downstairs, someone has started to play music. Voices rise in mirth and song. Hornet finds herself relieved that she’s not down there with all that noise. She was never one for parties, and never thought of having _sex_ at one, but Lace has a knack for getting her out of her comfort zone, in a ‘this could be fun’ kind of way. Despite Lace’s flirtatious nature, she hadn’t gotten many opportunities for fun back in Pharloom, being a renegade and all.

While Hornet is distracted, Lace comes up behind to embrace her, and press her cheek against one white horn. Her fingers dig into the red fabric of her dress, perhaps thinking of tickling her but ultimately deciding against it. Hornet allows herself to relax in Lace’s arms.

“Were you serious? When you invited God Tamer,” Hornet asks, looking at their reflections in the window. Lace puts a hand over her mouth and snort-laughs.

“No, but did you see the look on her face? I think she fancies you.”

Hornet’s eyes widen. “She—what?”

“But it’s too bad for her, and everyone else. You’re all mine.” Lace leans forward, cupping a hand under Hornet’s shell and kissing her temple. Her other hand travels lower down Hornet’s waist and fondles at the hem of her dress.

“You are awfully energetic, for someone who just got eaten out within an inch of her life,” Hornet grumbles, though she lays a hand over Lace’s arm.

“Would you have rather dragged my unconscious body out of the closet?”

Hornet can easily imagine the horrified reactions. “_No_.”

“Anyway, I’d rather like to have my revenge, now.” Lace, eyes scrunched up in a mischievous smile, hoists up and tosses a bewildered Hornet onto the bed. She lands with an indignant yelp. Lace joins her in an infuriatingly prim manner, sitting on the edge of the bed before crawling over her. Hornet blooms crimson.

“Can’t you be serious for once?” she flares, and to her surprise, Lace freezes. Her eyes are open, questioning.

“...Why, I _am_ being serious,” Lace says. She looks so taken aback that Hornet instantly regrets her outburst. Hornet’s hands are trembling, not from anger, but she realizes it could come off that way. Lace sits on her heels, hands folded on her thighs, waiting for Hornet to storm out. She doesn’t, of course, and just rolls over onto her side. There’s a great, uncomfortable silence, at the end of which Hornet feels the mattress depress behind her. Lace runs her fingers up and down Hornet’s arm, finds her hand, and cups it in her own.

“I _am_ serious with you. I know it’s hard for you to tell the difference, and I know you were hesitant about coming here, but I invited you because I wanted us to enjoy ourselves.” Lace peeks over Hornet’s shoulder. “Geo for your thoughts?”

_God_, Hornet loves her. She pushes her face into the sheets, feeling foolish and childish. Eventually, she rolls onto her back. Lace is propped up on one elbow, rubbing the back of Hornet’s hand with her thumb.

“I’m not mad at you,” Hornet begins. How does she even proceed from here? Lace is going to need a mountain of cash for all the thoughts she has. But this is necessary. In a way, Hornet is Lace’s anchor to Hallownest. That actually scares her a bit. She grapples with her anxieties, trying to find a foothold into them without coming out of nowhere. “You...are enjoying yourself? With me? With us?”

“Yes.” Lace watches, careful and patient, holding Hornet’s hand like a delicate specimen. Hornet uncurls her fist so that their hands lie palm to palm. “Are you?”

“I am, but...I don’t know.” Hornet dances around her most glaring worry, but it keeps stepping in front of her until she is forced to confront it. “Do you not tire of me? Even a little bit?”

Lace’s mouth sets in a deep frown. “Why would I be?”

Hornet balks. “You have left your homeland, which was flourishing—”

“Not really.”

“—to come back with me, of all insects, to the decaying corpse of a kingdom—”

“Mhm,” Lace hums attentively, bringing the back of Hornet’s hand to her mouth.

“—with a drastically lower quality of life, a population that just barely fills the smallest town we have, no central economic system,” Hornet gestures angrily at nothing. “that for all accounts we should just allow to die quietly, because I’ve just about lost my purpose for being here, and, and.”

Hornet turns her head away. Lace, methodically kissing each of her knuckles, guesses, “Which is all a downgrade for me, a member of the gentry?”

“Yes,” Hornet says, soundly deflated by her own tirade.

“It’s interesting to hear from you that Pharloom is better than this, considering I was already a traitor to the monarchy by the time you were kidnapped—do you remember that, by the way? If we had stayed there, you would be strung up in some machine, and I would have been caught and executed for treason. You realize that, do you not?”

“...I do. But if, hypothetically, the threat were not there, would you…?”

Lace turns Hornet’s hand over to kiss her palm and wrist. “No. I’d betray a thousand more kingdoms if it meant I could stay with you, my little spider. I would leave paradise if you weren’t there.”

This unabashed affection makes Hornet feel like she’s going to burst. Overwhelmed as she is, she can’t even look Lace in the eye, but the ocean is helpless against its ruling tidal forces. She meets Lace’s silver, shimmering moonlight with her own gaze: black as the Abyssal sea, as powerful and certain, but vulnerable and yielding to those who yearn to explore its depths. Lace, like Hornet, has her own secret list of metaphors for her lover’s eyes: a starless night, tumbled obsidian, the unfathomable bottom of the ocean.

“Lace, I love you,” whispers Hornet, “so please don’t leave me.”

It is a plea and a prayer, unrestrained, raw. She cups Lace’s cheek, and runs her fingertips along the smooth shell that mottles black plum. When Lace leans forward, she tilts her chin expectantly to meet her halfway. The kiss is full and sweet. Lace hooks her leg around Hornet’s and eases herself closer.

“I love you, too,” Lace murmurs against her. “If not for you, I don’t know how I would have began to adjust...”

“I know.” Hornet, feeling her eyes brimming, blinks rapidly. “It’s alright.”

“Of course I miss Pharloom. It was a cruel place, but it was my home. But I shan’t leave you, little spider,” Lace reassures her. She runs a hand under Hornet’s dress, holding her by the waist. Hornet fingers one of the buttons on Lace’s shirt, a cue for both of them to undress. Lace had, after all, wanted to continue their earlier activities in a more private location. Hornet pushes off her dress with little fanfare, but Lace unwraps herself like a present. When they are both bared, Hornet holds her arms out, and Lace falls happily into them.

Hornet slips her hand between Lace’s thighs to massage her clit. It’s still sensitive from earlier, as evidence by Lace’s loud moan. The noise startles them both. Lace laughs at herself, and even Hornet giggles into her hand. This cuts off in a gasp, when she feels a nip against her neck.

“I t-told you to be good,” Hornet stammers. The confidence she had from pleasuring Lace earlier has vanished, and she’s back to her usual shy self. She tries to recover by repeating herself, a little more forcefully, and by hooking her finger into Lace’s slit.

“Oh, please, don’t act like you don’t like this,” Lace says. She nibbles at her again, closer to her jaw, and then sucks gently at the bite mark.

“_Nnn_.” Hornet, tilting her head back, immediately gives in. “I like it. I like when you do that.”

“That’s what I thought.” Lace teases her neck a bit longer, breath hitching every time Hornet hits a sensitive spot. “Haven’t you been cheeky tonight? I’m the one who’s in charge, here.”

“But I thought—ah—you would have grown bored with me just lying there, doing nothing.”

“If you’re so worried about lying there, doing nothing,” Lace suggests, “You can lie there and make me feel good.”

She rises to her knees, and puts an extra pillow behind Hornet’s head. “Sit up against this. A little lower...Good, good.”

Lace straddles Hornet’s torso, with her hands against the headboard. Her slit is inches from Hornet’s shell, and when she understands what Lace is intending, her heart skips a beat. From this vantage point...No, no, don’t stare. Hornet brings her knees up and, once comfortable, leans forward. With one arm around Lace’s thigh and the other around the small of her back, she laps gently at her clit. It protrudes from its hood, and touching it directly with her tongue makes Lace shudder. Hornet regrets not having lips, or she could do more, but this seems to be enough.

Lace curls forward until her hands are sinking into the pillows, and the tips of Hornet’s horns are poking at her carapace. It does not take long for her to climax into Hornet’s mouth, and just as before, she carefully licks it up. No sooner has she done this than Lace lowers herself against Hornet’s side, breathing heavily. For a while Hornet just holds her, rubbing her back. Their carapaces are hot against each other, and Hornet’s mouth is starting to feel pasty. Before they do anything else, she needs water. Now. She explains this quietly to Lace, who follows her all the way to the bathroom across the hall (a risky move, when they’re sharing one bed sheet).

Hornet downs three glasses of water at the sink, and chokes on the fourth when Lace puts a hand between her thighs.

“Must you? Right now?”

“Yes. I’m feeling a bit peckish.” Lace kisses Hornet’s shoulder, fingers teasingly close to her slit. She doesn’t actually touch her, however, until the glass has been set down. For a moment they stand there, bathed in the dim bronze glow against the gaudy purple walls. The din of the party is a constant, distant hum. Beneath the ringing in Hornet’s tympanum, she hears the rustle of cloth and Lace sighing against the back of her neck. The mirror shows her an image of two women, flushed and in innocent white drapery that stands out against the dark background.

Hornet ends up taking a glass back to the room. She deliberately takes her time setting it on the nightstand, just because Lace keeps hovering around her. “You are so impatient.”

“I haven’t gotten to do anything to you.”

“...What do you want to do?” Hornet asks over her shoulder. Lace takes her by the waist, and guides her back onto the bed. Lace pulls the sheets over the two of them, as if wanting to shield her from even the lumaflies. Under this wedding veil of sorts, she hooks one arm beneath Hornet’s knee.

“Oh, I don’t know. There’s just so much I could do.” She presses a kiss to Hornet’s calf, making her shiver. As casually as anything, she slides a hand down to Hornet’s pelvis, and slides two fingers inside.

Hornet had been wanting all night, and the surprise of actually getting it turns her shell red. Her eyes squeeze shut as Lace begins to massage her inner walls in agonizingly slow strokes. And, oh, the kisses trailed down her leg and against her chest. She reaches her arms out to wind around Lace’s neck, bringing her in close. This stretches her leg in just the right way to expose her labia, now the hapless victim of Lace’s roaming fingers. Hornet, embarrassed by the slick sounds of her own arousal, moans helplessly.

“L-Lace...”

“Yes?” Lace murmurs, followed by a quick kiss to the cheek. She slips two fingers inside, and uses her thumb to rub Hornet’s clit. Hornet is aware of every movement, and it paralyzes her with bliss. Her words die in her throat, coming out instead as a low-pitched whine that she muffles in Lace’s shoulder.

“Be as loud as you want, love. The door is locked,” comes Lace’s reply, sweeter than any caress.

As if those words commanded it, Hornet writhes and reaches orgasm. She falls back onto the mattress, breathing heavy, expecting reprieve that she doesn’t get. Lace slips out of her arms and down past her hips, where she spreads Hornet’s thighs and puts her to shame. Her mouth is unbearably soft, warm breath lighting a fire in her chest. Her vision speckles with not stars but whole galaxies that burst like fireworks with each jolt. Lace, tireless and unrelenting, repeatedly brings Hornet to the edge and pushes her over every time. She is only satisfied when Hornet is sprawled twitching beneath her, unable to take any more.

“You know, it’s a good thing you brought that water in.” Lace takes the glass and drains half of it before offering it to Hornet. “Here.”

Hornet takes a few shaky sips, and then rolls onto her side with a groan. She tucks her legs up and runs a hand along her forehead, exhausted and overheated. Perhaps Lace really does enjoy being in charge most of the time? That would line up with her commanding personality. Hornet, dazed with bliss, mumbles into her pillow: “You’re unfair.”

“All’s fair in love and war.” Lace settles next to her. A cliché, to be sure, but it fits. There’s no sound but the dull patter of rain against the windows, and Hornet would be tempted to sleep through it if not for the fact that this isn’t her bed. Then Lace says, “It sounds like the party is dispersing.”

“Finally,” Hornet grunts. She looks glances around for her dress, and sees it crumpled on the floor. “If I knew we were going to keep to ourselves the entire time, I would have insisted we stay home.”

“Maybe so,” Lace says with a shrug. She pecks Hornet on the mouth, then goes to retrieve her clothes. “Next time, you can choose where we go.”

Hornet doesn’t need to think to know she’d like that. Reluctantly, she pushes herself out of bed to get dressed. She looks thoroughly rumpled when she checks herself in the mirror; it’s going to be obvious to everyone else what they were doing, if spotted. So the two of them sit on the steps, spying on the other insects and waiting until the crowd has thinned. Hand in hand, the two tromp down the steps and out into the rainy street.

**Author's Note:**

> I had the urge to write more Lacenet, so I did it. I tried really hard to keep them as in-character as possible for such a hypothetical situation. Also I wrote the last part on 0 hours of sleep (single tear)


End file.
